


Sunday Morning

by Therg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Sleepy Sex, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therg/pseuds/Therg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean/Cas kink meme fic.<br/>"Dean/Cas morning sex with bottom!Dean"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning

If he were awake, Dean would tell you he wasn't a big on cuddling, or any of " _that girly shit_ ", but you wouldn't know that to look at him now; lying in the warm sunlight peaking in through the blinds, an angel spooned against his back, sheets tangled in their entwined legs, Cas' hand splayed possessively on his hip.

Sleep is a curiosity which Castiel doesn't experience but which fascinates him, he enjoys watching Dean asleep and marvels at the serenity he seems to experience. But after six hours, even staring at a creature as wondrous as Dean can get a little boring. He finds his hand on that hip falling backwards, caressing Dean's buttock, long fingers kneading the soft flesh. He's careful to control his breathing and hold back the moan which threatens to escape, content just to let a soft sight ghost over Dean's ear. His fingers creep lower slip lower still, he wishes he could see the fingerprint shaped bruises that he knows decorates the man's hips, knows because he left them there last night.

Memories of last night make his cock twitch, and he moves his hand in search of some tangible proof of what they'd gotten up to. His fingers find Dean's hole and circle it, one digit pressing gently at the entrance. He's surprised to feel how slick the man is, still, and at how easily Dean opens up for him and how his unconscious body allows the intrusion. He can't help but think about how Dean is still wet and slick from his come, still loose and open from being stretched by his cock, still so affected by the way Cas had fucked him last night, and the thought does wonders for his morning erection. He eases a second finger inside the man, biting his lip to hold back the moan which rumbles deep in his chest. He never thought a human would effect him this much, and he can't help but marvel at how good _just touching_ Dean makes him feel.

The angel shifts his lips, rubbing himself lazily against Dean's back, smearing precome across his spine. He licks his lips and pauses hesitantly, breath ghosting across Dean's ear. He wants to tell the man how he feels, how he makes him feel, in a way that he'd never have the courage to do if Dean was awake. 

"Dean…" It's little more than a whisper, his voice deep and rough, but it's a start, "You feel… Incredible." He pauses and watches the figure in front of him, he doesn't think he'll be able to continue if he wakes, but there seems no change in the rise and fall of the man's chest.

"I love that you're still wet and open from me - _because_ of me…" Another pause, coupled with a hesitant bite to his lip, and the next words are so quiet that he almost isn't sure he says them "me _fucking_ you."

It's amazing the feeling of relief and power he gets from saying that, emboldened he presses a third finger inside the sleeping form, scissoring and flexing them, pumping them slowly in and out of him, taking full advantage of the lube and come that remains inside Dean from last night.

"I love slicking you up, preparing you, using my own come. It's very -" Dean seems to tighten around his fingers, and Cas can't prevent the rough moan that slips from his lips, "- so very hot."

"Fuck yes."

Cas freezes. He's relatively certain that wasn't him. Lifting his head to glance at Dean's face he sees flushed cheeks, teeth biting down on lower lip and open eyes - sleep and lust hazed, but definitely open.

Dean stretches, pushing himself back onto Cas' fingers and rubbing against his cock. Sensing the angel's embarrassment he rolls his hips, grinding against the hard cock pressing against his arse and fucking himself on the fingers that remain immobile inside him. "Don't stop now Cas… Your voice is so fucking hot... Tell me what else…." His voice is broken and gasping and he's sure he sounds like some crappy pornstar but it seems to work for Cas, the fingers slowly flexing and brushing against his prostate.

The angel presses his face to the back of Dean's neck, shuts his eyes, and haltingly continues, "I like - I like the way you moan…"

Dean obliges him perfectly, moaning loudly and reaching an arm back to thread his fingers into Cas' hair. "Fuck yes, Cas. Tell me what else… Love it when you talk to me… Your voice… So fucking hot." 

Castiel blushes but continues, "I love being inside of you… Love the noises you make when I'm fucking you…"

Dean moans again and reaches his other hand down to wrap around his cock, fisting it to the sound of the angel's voice. Emboldened, Castiel flexes his fingers against his prostate one more before withdrawing them, lining his cock up and pressing forwards enough to tease but not quite enter Dean.

"I love the way you beg me to fuck you." The head of his cock presses slowly inside, using only the left over slickness from the night before to ease the way - enough to prevent injury, but not enough to remove that burn and stretch, and Dean gasps, fingers tugging on the angel's hair and presses back against him, silently begging for more.

"Love it when you moan like a whore for me…." He knows he's blushing bright red and should be unbelievably embarrassed, but the noises Dean is making are so distracting and encouraging that he can't make himself care, "Love hearing you gasp, watching you writhe as I fuck you."

Dean is stroking his cock too quickly, Castiel wants to make this last, so he brushes his hand aside and ghosts his fingers over the length, teasing the head while he presses slowly inside the man - a ragged curse falling from his lips when he is entirely inside.

He pulls out slowly, enjoying the whine this elicits from Dean, before thrusting back equally torturously slow. Dean's fingers tighten in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp and he tugs pointedly, demandingly, and Castiel chuckles and nips the man's neck in chastisement. He repeats the slow thrust, once, twice, just to tease him - teach him his place - fingers stroking slowly over his cock in matching pace. He pulls out again, pauses, and slams back in.

Dean gasps, pulling on the angel's hair in surprise, and tightens around his cock in encouragement. His breath coming in pants as the hand on his cock speeds up, moving to match the fast pace that Castiel is setting. He tries to move his hips in tandem, thrusting and pressing back as best he can but he's getting lost in the pleasure, his brain still too sleep addled to operate outside of _lust_ , _want_ and _need_. He's letting the angel control the situation entirely; and the angel knows it.

"Love making you unravel like this," Cas's voice is so deep, so rasping, "Making you incapable of thinking anything, doing anything."

Dean has no idea how the hell he's stringing together sentences as complex as that, it's all he can do to gurgle incoherently in response, grabbing at more of the angel's hair and thrusting up into the hot fist that envelops him, and back down onto the slick hardness that fills him. And he's close, _so close_ , and Castiel knows it. He keeps him right on the edge until Dean feels he's so wound up, so tense, that he might shatter unless he comes _right now_.

"Go on, come for me," It's followed by something that Dean thinks is, " _Whore_." But the sound of it is lost to him as he does shatter, and he's falling through a world of pleasure, only aware of the feeling of Castiel around and inside him.

Cas strokes him through his orgasm and then pauses, trails a finger through the come that splatters Dean's stomach and is dripping onto the sheets. He lifts it to his lips slowly, sucking on it, and moans. And if Dean had come any longer than ten seconds ago, he thinks he'd be hard all over again

Seemingly suddenly aware of the situation, Castiel shifts his hips and moves his hand to cover the handprint bruise that lies on Dean's hip, a twin to the scar on his arm. It takes a few thrusts, a handful of seconds, until he's coming. And, God help him, Dean thinks that the feel of his angel coming inside of him, claiming him so completely, _is_ enough to get him hard again.


End file.
